Cat's Parlor
by ardavenport
Summary: The spider wanders into the cat's parlor below the streets of New York. Both are a little worse for the encounter.
1. Chapter 1

**CAT'S PARLOR**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 1**

In a tunnel under the busy streets of New York City a cat/man-like creature advanced purposefully toward his goal. Something shuffled in the tunnel ahead. Vincent paused. The noise he'd heard was unfamiliar. It had sounded large enough to be a man, but he did not recognize the footsteps. It moved again, this time unlike a foot fall entirely. Wary, Vincent continued stalking the intruder.

This person had sheltered in an unlit portion of the tunnels ahead through which Vincent needed to pass to reach the entry to Catherine's apartment building. Vincent peered carefully into the darkness. The gloom scarcely hindered his night vision, but still he saw nothing. The intruder moved again and Vincent snarled audibly. Quick and making a sinister scurrying sound, the intruder did not sound like a man at all.

The movement stopped. Vincent's instincts told him that he, himself, might be the prey.

'Should I not attempt to speak with it?' he asked himself. But bitter experience had taught him that not all men would hear words. And he was not really sure it was a man. His instincts told him that this invader must be driven away.

He continued forward, slowly. His eyes probed the colorless shadows and saw all the details that the average human eye would be blind to, but nothing seemed out of place. He looked behind him, but nothing was there as well. Listening for the tiniest noise, he heard distant tapping, messages being passed through the underground pipes. Even more distant city sounds filtered from above through the layers of concrete and dirt. He was acutely aware of any sound he made, the sound of his boots on the cement and his cape brushing the ground, the sound of his own breathing and of his clothes stretching as his chest expanded and exhaled. He heard nothing else. Sniffing the air, he smelled only cool dust and mildew. The intruder moved again; Vincent growled openly and bared his teeth.

He approached an intersection of three tunnels; one was clear, but the corridor of the other turned left and he could not see into it. Vincent crept closer, hugging the wall. He crouched and sprang forward.

There was nothing there. Then he realized his mistake. He jumped away from the turn and looked above him. Light reflected from his fangs.

He briefly saw the man-shape above him before two powerful blows struck him in the head. Clawing at it as he fell, he heard a man's yelp of pain and the sound of fabric tearing. He landed on his feet and rolled away. Then, in a very human fashion, he ran, slightly limping, off down the tunnel from which he had come.

Crouched on his hands and knees, Vincent heard the other leave but could not rise. The pain was great enough to make him feel nauseous. His opponent surely had strength that rivaled his own, he realized. He crawled to the wall and sat down with his back to it. Letting his head fall back, he breathed deeply to clear it. After a few minutes he felt less ill, but the pounding in his head remained. He looked around. His peripheral vision was fuzzy.

Rising slowly, Vincent staggered toward the tunnel ahead of him and away from the one his enemy had retreated down. He was very close to the entrance to Catherine's apartment, closer even than the nearest pipes with which he could signal for help. If she shared his pain, and he knew she did, she would come.

**

* * *

==oo==oo==oo==oo==**

* * *

"...I really appreciate you staying so late for this," Joe continued.

"That's OK, sir. We're happy to work late," David, the wimpy accountant in the back seat, answered. Joe hadn't been addressing him but acknowledged him anyway. He double parked in front of Catherine Chandler's apartment building.

"Hey, Radcliffe, you don't look so good." She was pale and breathless.

"I'm fine," she almost whispered without looking at him. She opened the door and got out. Joe leaned over across the vacated seat.

"You sure you're alright?" He was tempted to go after her. A moment ago she had been perfectly well.

"I'm fine, really. You'd better take David home, now." She closed the door, still without looking him in the eye, and ran between the parked cars to the door.

"Uh, 33rd Street, sir," David said.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, Chishek. I'm not a taxi driver." Reluctantly, he drove on.

**

* * *

==oo==oo==oo==oo==**

* * *

Catherine found Vincent just inside the entrance to the tunnels. She could not see his injuries in the darkness, but he was conscious and lucid.

"I've got to get Father." She started to rise, but he stopped her.

"No. I was attacked in the tunnels. It's too dangerous."

"Attacked? What was it? Did you see it?"

"I don't know. It wasn't anything I could name, not quite a man. It struck me down when it could have killed, but I don't know why."

"Then I'm taking you upstairs." She helped him to rise.

"I'll be seen," he told her.

"We'll just have to make the best of it." She helped him through the entrance. Then she pulled his cloak up over his head and his sleeves as far down over his claws as they would go. With his arm over her shoulder they made it to the service elevator without meeting anybody. Since it was so late there was a good chance that they could make it all the way to her apartment without being seen.

Once on her floor, they were forced to dodge a few people before getting to her door. She unlocked it and they disappeared inside.

Down below the streets of New York, a lone figure in a blue and red superhero's costume nursed his wounds. He had some shallow, but painful scratches on his lower abdomen and a couple excruciating ones that had grazed his groin.

Spiderman looked up again and listened for the were-cat. But there was still no pursuit. He knew that one of his punches could knock out a horse. Two could KO an elephant. But this thing had only been stunned. And it had still managed to inflict it's share of damage. So, he had taken the better part of valor and gotten his rear end out of there. When he was sure he wasn't being followed, he stopped and checked the damage. That thing's claws were sharp; not only had it slashed the front of his costume, coming within millimeters of making him a soprano, they had also sliced through the elastic of his athletic supporter. He was in a very desperate position, indeed.

There was still his original problem to deal with. He was hopelessly lost in these tunnels. Regretting that he had ever chosen to follow up on that tenuous story about people living underground in Manhattan, he checked his camera and was relieved to find it OK. He wistfully thought about swinging free among the skyscrapers above. Only a few hours ago, he had been up there, before his skimpy information had led to the discovery of this maze and before his overconfidence had gotten him lost. His spider sense did not seem to endow him with a good sense of direction. Now he was tired, hurt, lost and he didn't even have any pictures to show for it. He doubted that even J. J. Jameson would believe a were-cat story, let alone pay for any shots of it. The Daily Bugle was as yellow a rag as they came, but even J. J. had his standards.

The bleeding had stopped and a makeshift bandage of webbing would keep the cuts covered, but now he faced a difficult decision. He didn't know what that lion-creature was, but it had appeared to know where it was going, which was more than he could say for himself. If he followed, he might find his way out of the endless tunnels.

"Or I might get cut to pieces," he told himself. But Spiderman knew that he could wander around for hours without a good lead, so there really was only one choice.

He stood up. His tights fell down.

Sadly, he looked down at the pieces of his former jock-strap. His web bandage covered his assets, but webbing was a little bit too transparent for comfort. He discarded the useless undergarment and pulled his tights up. Knotting the ragged edges at the waist, he tied it to a loop of webbing around his neck before he cautiously proceeded down the tunnel to the intersection where he had confronted the were-cat.

It was gone. It had proceeded on, apparently using the wall for support for that was where its tracks were in the thin layer of dust along the walls.

Spiderman followed warily. Minutes later he came to a broken wall. Beyond that a light shone from above.

**

* * *

==oo==oo==oo==oo==**

* * *

Catherine returned to the bedroom with an ice pack and more ice in a plastic bag wrapped in a towel. She went to the bed and placed the pack on the lump on Vincent's head and the towel on the bruise next to his left eye. He winced but did not protest. She then went to the bathroom and returned with some cotton balls and a small bottle of antiseptic. Brushing long strands of his red-gold hair aside, she dabbed at a tiny, red cut near his right temple just under the ice pack. He winced again.

"How do you feel?" she asked, holding the cotton to his head.

"Better," he answered, eyes closed.

She removed the cotton; the cut seemed to have stopped bleeding. She continued to watch him without speaking. His breathing was even and deep and there didn't appear to be any sign of shock from his injury. But in spite of the ice the left side of his face was swollen and purple. The lump on his head was enormous and she had no more first aid to offer. Catherine wanted to question him about the attack but his silence and her empathy with him told her how badly he was feeling, so she said nothing. She rose. He opened his eyes.

"Stay."

She immediately sat back down on the bed next to him and took his hand.

"I'm here," she answered.

"You want to go for help," he told her.

"You're hurt. Father sh-."

"No. It's too dangerous."

"You said it could have killed you, but it didn't. Maybe it was only frightened. And I wouldn't have to go very far into the tunnel to send a message."

"He shook his head slowly, dislodging the ice pack. "You can't be sure. It's too dangerous for you alone. After I've rested, I can return. Please stay," he pleaded softly.

It was a request Catherine could not openly refuse. She replaced the ice pack and stroked the hair back from his right temple, letting her hand linger in a caress.

"Rest then," she told him. They gazed at each other for a moment before he closed his eyes. She continued to gaze down at him and soon his body relaxed in sleep. His hand was limp and warm in hers. Large, with dangerous claws, soft fur and rough palms, it was as familiar to her heart as it was to her touch. Catherine waited a few more moments before gently putting his hand down and rising from the bed.

She took his cloak, folded it and put it on a chair. Then she got an extra blanket from the closet. She briefly thought about removing his boots, but didn't want to risk waking him. She covered him and left the room, closing the door behind her. Then, still wearing the silk blouse, navy suit jacket, skirt and heels from work she quietly left the apartment to go down to the tunnels and call for help.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 1**


	2. Chapter 2

**CAT'S PARLOR**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 2**

Spiderman sighed.

You're one sorry looking web-slinger," he told himself.

After escaping the underground catacomb, he'd frightened a couple old women before getting out to a building. From there he'd crawled straight up the side and to the relative safety of the shadows and the heights. At about the fifteenth floor his makeshift suspenders gave. The knot at his waist had tightened and his webbing slipped over it. He'd picked the material of his costume specifically because it was light, strong and didn't stick to his webbing, so he wouldn't accidentally tie himself up. But now that was no longer an asset. And the knot alone just didn't cut it.

He was forced to crawl clumsily, camera slung around his neck, with one hand holding his tights up. He stayed away from windows. The last thing he needed was anybody accusing him of being a flasher along with all his other problems. He hoped he could find an open balcony door somewhere so he could borrow a pair shorts or something before he actually tried to get home.

His spider sense began tingling. 'Uh, oh.' Slowly he crept upward to a balcony apartment. It was dark. He moved to the next and the danger signal increased. The second apartment contained two children arguing over a television show. But the third . . . . .

Spiderman crept past the balcony and peered in through a bedroom window. His were-cat was asleep on a double bed with an ice pack on his head. He was covered up with a blanket but there was no mistaking that bulk. Spidey slipped in through the balcony door.

The first thing he wanted to know was who the were-cat was. That kind of knowledge sometimes came in handy. He wasn't above blackmail if this creature turned out to be a threat to himself or the inhabitants of New York. He was also somewhat annoyed to see that his opponent had a fancy, uptown apartment while he had more modest, downtown means.

He snooped about on carpeted floors without disturbing any of the tastefully matched, pale, yuppie-type furnishings and knick-knacks. Nothing seemed to be out of place.

"At least he's neat," he thought to himself. His investigation showed that the apartment belonged to a Catherine Chandler and the I.D. in the purse on the couch indicated that she worked for the District Attorney's office. He eyed the pretty young face on the drivers' license. Her hair was longish and a dark shade of blonde. Could this person be his were-cat? It seemed unlikely since the person in the bed in the next room definitely looked like a male. But if a person could change into a were-cat, could they change their sex as well?'

'This might get kinky,' he thought to himself.

He checked the kitchen and the closets in the living room to make sure that Catherine Chandler hadn't been murdered by the beast in the bedroom. But there were no bloodied corpses to be found.

'You've wasted enough time,' Spidey told himself. 'Time to face the music.' He squared his shoulders, pulled up his sagging tights (again) and crept into the bedroom.

Sleeping Beauty didn't even stir. He silently checked the closets and the bathroom. No bodies buried there. But on the counter in the bathroom he found something almost as precious as gold to him at the moment. A bottle of safety pins. He quickly took advantage of the find, undid his knot and pinned the front of his shirt to his tights in several places, closing the holes as best he could. He reentered the bedroom with greater confidence.

'I guess it's just you and me.'

He was simply going to have to wake the sleeping cat and ask him what he was doing in a woman's bed. But Spidey had no intention of getting cut up again. He was certain that those claws could slice through his webbing just as easily as they could slice though him. But it would be a different story if those paws were webbed together before he woke up.

Spidey unslung his camera, putting it on the bureau and walked to the bed. He reached for the cover.

The front door opened and somebody entered the living room.

'Ooops.' The closet was closer than the outside door, so he hid there and crept up to the ceiling in case anybody looked inside. He left the door ajar to hear and see what went on.

Two people entered.

The first was Catherine Chandler. Spiderman recognized her from her I.D. The second was a bearded man, dressed like a street person. His clothes were dark and bulky and ragged in a few places and he carried a black doctor's bag. The man went straight to the were-cat and put the bag down on the nightstand. He removed the ice pack and a towel covering part of the cat-face and gently probed the injuries. Peering under the top of the door frame, the web slinger almost whistled. He hadn't realized he'd done that much damage. Score one for Spidey.

The man sat on the bed and untied the laces of the were-cat's sweater-vest and then loosened the white shirt and undershirt. Even so, Spidey couldn't see any bare skin or fun underneath. Why would a were-cat wear so many clothes? Weren't they supposed to rip them off and run howling naked into the night?

The bearded man, presumably a doctor, pulled out a stethoscope and listened to the creature's chest. In spite of the examination the patient didn't stir.

"You're sure it was Spiderman that Vincent ran into in the tunnels?" the man asked. His voice was smooth and educated. He did not sound like a typical street person.

"I think so," Chandler answered. "He surprised some of my neighbors in the lobby and they called the police. He must have come up from the tunnel just after me and Vincent. I can't think of any other reason for him to have been on the first floor of the building."

The man seemed to agree. He removed the stethoscope from his ears. "But why did he attack Vincent?" he asked.

'Why did I attack him?' Spidey almost bristled, but said nothing.

"I don't know," Chandler answered. "They must have surprised each other."

'You said it, lady,' Spidey concurred silently.

Chandler sat down next to the doctor. "How is he?"

Father sighed deeply. "Well, his heartbeat and breathing is strong and he doesn't appear to be in any difficulty." He paused. It was always the same when Vincent fell ill or was injured. He would bring forth his futile cures, but beyond bandaging a cut or dressing a wound, he knew that if anything deep inside was wrong that he had little to offer and that Vincent's own constitution would be his only hope. It was on occasions like these that he regretted abandoning the world above and its technology.

He looked down at Vincent and wondered about skull fractures and brain hemorrhages. What then? But the worst had not happened yet, he told himself, and they would consider it if it happened. "I think that at least one of us should stay with him."

The doorbell rang.

"Stay here," Chandler told the man and left the bedroom.

Catherine looked through the peephole. She saw a distorted suit and tie worn by a very average brown-haired man. It was Joe Maxwell. She opened the door.

"Hey, Radcliffe. I was just passing through and thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing."

Cathy smiled. "I'm really fine, Joe. Unless you have more work for me."

"No, nothing like that." He paused uncertainly before continuing. "Hey, you going to let your immediate superior stand out here in the hall like this."

She sighed. "I was just going to go to bed . . . ."

Something crashed in the bedroom.

"What was that?" Joe asked, loud enough to be heard in the bedroom.

Father cursed the coat sleeve that had caught the figurine on the bureau. In the closet, Spiderman tensed when he saw the man just miss his camera as well. His costume was already ruined; he didn't like the idea of having to replace a $400 camera as well.

Father removed his outer clothes. Without them, he wore pants, boots and a turtleneck sweater, reasonably normal enough. The man at the door was pressing Catherine and Father felt obliged to bail her out since it was his blunder that had led to this difficulty.

He entered the living room.

"Ah, Catherine. You have another guest." He closed the bedroom door behind him. Catherine was aghast. Father didn't seem to have heard her tell Joe that she was just going to bed. Joe pushed his way in.

"I'm Jacob Wells, a friend of the family," Father continued a little uncertainly.

"Yeah," Joe said shoving his hand out. "Joe Maxwell."

"Well," Catherine closed the front door. "Maybe we should all sit down and get acquainted."

"Yeah," Joe said.

Inside his closet Spiderman heard the people in the living room settle down. He waited a few more minutes and then decided to make his escape. Things would be much safer outside. He crept out of the closet, onto the ceiling.

**

* * *

==oo==oo==oo==oo==**

* * *

Vincent stirred, not quite awake. The pain in his head had abated. He knew that he was in Catherine's apartment. He could hear voices in the next room. Catherine's and . . . . . Father's. And another. He breathed deeply. The room, the bed he lay in smelled of Catherine and he had no desire to awaken. But he knew that his presence could endanger her. He opened his eyes . . . . .

. . . . . . and saw a man on the ceiling.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 2**


	3. Chapter 3

**CAT'S PARLOR**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 3**

"So, you've known the family long?" Joe asked with the friendly tone that he usually reserved for felony suspects.

"Uh, yes," Father answered. He could tell from Catherine's expression that he had really put his foot in it by coming out at all.

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. . . . . ."

"What was that?" Confused, Joe looked around. Catherine and Father gritted their teeth. Not now Vincent.

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr . . . . . ." Rustle, thump!

"I think I might have left a radio on." Father got up.

"Hey that ain't no radio." Joe got up as well. So did Catherine.

Father went to the bedroom door. "I'll take care of it. I'll just be a minute," he excused himself.

Joe started to follow, but Catherine pulled him back.

Father closed the door behind him. He found Vincent crouching on the floor and growling at something above.

"Vincent!" Father whispered as loudly as he dared. Instantly Vincent was ashamed of his behavior and took his eyes off his quarry.

This was just the sort of break Spidey had been hoping for. He sprang for the window to the outside.

One of his safety pins popped open.

He yelped, lost his grip and fell halfway between Father and Vincent.

"What's going on in there?" they heard Joe demand. Catherine continued to make excuses.

Father was the first to act.

"Get out!" he told Vincent. He Grabbed Spiderman by the arm and propelled him toward the door as well. "Get out! Hide!"

Vincent opened the door and stepped out.

"Alright, if you won't let me through there I'll go around . . . ."

"Joe!"

Vincent launched himself backwards.

"Into the bathroom! Both of you!"

Vincent was there in three steps, but Spidey paused to remove the offending safety pin before making a leap for safety. He landed on the bed . . . . .

"I'm gonna' find out what's goin' on around here." Joe walked through the door.

. . . . bounced, hit the ceiling and stuck there.

Joe stopped in utter surprise. Behind him Catherine looked in, utterly shocked.

Joe smiled.

"You been keeping stuff from me, Radcliffe."

"I want to assure you that Catherine knew nothing of this," Father hastily explained.

"Yeah, well, you mind explaining just what this is?" Joe stepped into the room, picked up the blanket lying on the floor. The bed was rumpled where Spiderman had jumped on it, but otherwise made.

"Um, well, that's very difficult to explain. It's quite a long story," Father stalled. He had no idea what he was going to say next.

"I'm all ears." Joe tossed the blanket on to the bed and folded his arms expectantly. Father cleared his throat.

"Do you mind if I say something?" Spiderman asked from above.

"Go right ahead." Joe was beginning to enjoy himself. Chandler looked positively green with consternation.

"In case you're wondering, we haven't been having any orgies in here. If you really want to know what happened . . . . ."

Catherine and Father held their breaths.

" . . . . I had a little accident with some poorly placed wires and I needed some help with my outfit or somebody was going to have me picked up for indecent exposure." He indicated his safety-pinned tights. Catherine and Father exhaled cautiously. "I was outside and, uh, these two saw my predicament and offered a little help." He held out a safety pin, the one that had jabbed him earlier. "I was just fixing myself up in here when you barged in. They were just trying to cover up for me."

"That was you makin' those funny noises in here?"

"Yeah." Spidey nodded. "I, ah, was in the bathroom."

"Do it again."

The web slinger put up his free hand. "Not in front of the lady, please. Now if you don't mind . . . ." He waved, crawling over to an open window. "Ta, ta."

"Hey, where you goin'. We were just getting acquainted. I'm one of your biggest fans." Joe sounded genuinely disappointed.

"Sorry, I've got to get home and fix myself up before I can be seen by my public." He reached the windows.

"Yeah, I see your point," Joe admitted, then added, "Hey, you get into any trouble, the D.A.'s office is on your side; just as long you don't do anything illegal."

Spidey thanked him. Sometimes, admirers turned up in the oddest places. He exited.

Joe grinned. Then he turned to Catherine. "And you, Radcliffe, next time Spiderman comes over, give me a call."

"I'll try to remember that, but I don't expect him again anytime soon." she answered honestly.

"I mean it. I don't want you hiding things from me. We're friends, right? I can always tell when you're keeping something back." Catherine saw Vincent peeking around the bathroom door. Joe's back was to him.

Almost snarling himself, Father waved him back and he vanished.

"I want you to know, whatever might be going on, I'll understand." He put his hand on her shoulder in a very brotherly fashion and she was genuinely glad for his sincerity. Even though she didn't intend to he honest with him about everything.

"I should have trusted you, Joe,"

"Well, I suppose that concludes that," Father commented.

"I guess I was wrong about you, Pop. You know I was thinkin' that you and Radcliffe here . . . . ., well I don't know what I was thinkin'." Joe headed toward the door into the living room. Father inwardly winced. He hated being called 'Pop'.

"Hey, why did you look so worried when I dropped you off?" Joe asked as they crossed to the front door. "I thought you were going to faint."

Catherine opened the front door and paused. "Ah, um, I forgot Jacob," she almost fumbled Father's first name, "here was waiting for me. I didn't remember we were having dinner until we drove up."

"We were going to meet at eight," Father added to bolster the lie.

"You must be pretty hungry by now. What say we grab a bite together?" Joe offered in an attempt to make up for his earlier suspicion.

"Wh-well, Catherine and I still have a few things to discuss," Father excused.

"Uh, huh," His apprehension immediately returned.

Don't you trust me?" Catherine asked.

"Yeah, sure," he wavered uncertainly in the doorway. "See you bright and early, tomorrow morning. We got a lot of work to do."

"See you then." She closed the door. Then she and Father almost collapsed on each other in sheer relief.

"I never thought I'd ever need to be part of such an outright deception." Father had to admit.

"I'm just glad that Joe bought it. He's a good friend, but I really don't think he'd understand." She smiled. "Why did Spiderman cover up for us like that?" she wondered.

"I don't know."

"Maybe it's just because I'm a nice guy." Spiderman poked his head down from above the open door to the balcony. he let himself down carefully to the floor, wary of popping any more safety pins.

He strolled toward them. Nonplussed, his audience had no immediate response. "Hey, no thank-yous? Cheering? Accolades for the returning hero? I just pulled your coals out of the fire and you're looking at me like I just offended your great aunt."

"Ah, um, we're, ah, . . . ." Catherine began.

". . . . Surprised that you've returned," Father ended.

"I still had some nagging questions that I thought you might be able to answer."

"There are many questions to be answered," Vincent said from the doorway of the bedroom. Spidey jumped. This was the first time he'd heard Vincent speak.

He approached slowly, half circling Spiderman, who mentally readied himself for a quick exit. The were-cat didn't look any less dangerous under electric light than he did in a dark tunnel.

Vincent eyed Spiderman carefully. His blue and red leotard-costume would have suited any ballet dancer. Except where it was torn, it covered him head to toe, concealing every inch of skin. Even his eyes were not visible behind the eye patches of his mask. Nothing was exposed that would indicate that he was anything but Spiderman. But arachnid qualities spoke directly to Vincent's bestial id. It seemed strange to him, since spiders had never really bothered him. But the combination of man and spider repelled him greatly. He exhaled and lowered his eyes. He was ashamed of his intuitive response. It was based on his most primitive instincts and totally without reason.

"You helped us. We are grateful." Vincent told him. His voice was soft and low, like a throaty whisper, his words perfectly pronouncec and unaccented. To Spidey it did not match his fierce appearance.

"It's a pity you didn't say this when we first met. We could have avoided some unpleasantness." He stepped back to display the ruined front of his costume. The safety pins held the slashed edges closed in nearly vertical lines, like four flies. Vincent felt the purpled bruise next to his left eye.

"No hard feelings?" The web slinger offered his hand. The were-cat accepted it. "I figured you didn't want to be seen. I've had that problem myself," Spidey explained.

"Perhaps we could meet as friends, here and below."

Spidey held up his hands to refuse. "Uh, uh. The urban canyons is where I belong. Underground places cramp my style."

"That is just as well. You would attract far too much attention down there," Father told him.

"That reminds me; what were you doing down there in the first place?"

"It is our home," Vincent answered without pause, gesturing to include father.

"All three of you?"

"Catherine is merely a friend."

"All by yourselves, then? Just the two of you?"

"There are,. . . . others."

"Really?"

"And we value our privacy," Father added.

Spidey pondered this. Obviously they valued their privacy or they wouldn't be living in a basement address under Central Park.

"We might ask you just what you were doing down in the tunnels as well," Father added.

Spidey held up his hands. "Hey, I'm not asking any more questions. I just heard a rumor that somebody might be down there and I don't want to know any more now."

Father was unsure of trusting the wall crawler but Vincent nodded and took him at his word.

"Is that all you wanted?" Catherine broke in.

"Not quite. I forgot something." Spidey sauntered into the bedroom and returned with his camera. He headed toward the door. "Sorry to come and go, but I've got a busy schedule." Nobody moved to stop him. He hopped onto the balcony wall and turned.

"Say cheese," Father opened his mouth to object. Catherine did the same. Vincent lowered his eyebrows and frowned. Click, click, click. Then Spidey slipped over the side of the balcony and was gone for good this time.

**

* * *

- - - End Part 3**


	4. Chapter 4

**CAT'S PARLOR**

by ardavenport

**

* * *

- - - Part 4**

Father discreetly busied himself with a glass of water in the kitchen, thus giving Catherine and Vincent a moment alone on the balcony.

"What are you thinking?" Catherine asked, standing close. Vincent lowered his eyes from the New York cityscape. He turned around to face her.

"I have never met such a man. How did he become the way he is?"

"Spiderman? I don't know." She looked at the brightly lit cityscape across the park. " Some people say it was some kind of radiation or a spider bite or something. Some people are afraid of him, think he's some kind of dangerous freak. I think most people ignore him. Some people, like Joe, admire him."

"Why?"

"Probably because he's so free. He can go anywhere he likes; he can do things that nobody else can do. Sometimes you hear about him saving somebody's life or catching a criminal." Catherine smiled. Vincent waited for her explanation.

"We once had a case with two men who were robbing a jewelry story and they were caught by Spiderman. They were career criminals; we'd seen them before, but they were completely unnerved by Spiderman. They didn't offer any defense, at all. Maybe that's why Joe likes him. The hero who can cow even the hardest criminals."

She turned back toward him and Vincent smiled briefly but his expression remained thoughtful. "I think there have been other cases, but I don't know anything about them." She waited but he remained silent.

"What is it?" She touched his arm.

"He 'unnerved' me as well."

"How?"

"When I was down in the tunnels, I came across him by accident. I heard him first and then I sensed him. My first thoughts were of an intruder, but I knew he was different. Strange. I told myself that I was protecting our world, but in truth, all I wanted was the confrontation."

"You lost control of your instincts. It's nothing that doesn't happen to all of us sometimes."

"Perhaps. But if you lose control of such dark instincts the result would not be as, . . . . dangerous as it would with me."

"It could. If anyone had the right weapon at the wrong time. It happens every day in this world."

"You can remove yourselves from those instruments of death. I cannot." He hung his head.

She faced him, her hands on his arms. "Maybe you were just reacting to Spiderman the way that people might react when they first meet you."

Vincent looked up. He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"And maybe those dark instincts in you aren't all that different from the ones that we all keep inside us."

Her words touched him. They reminded him that other things lay beneath conscious thought, for his bond with Catherine was deeper than any instinct he had ever known. "I see none of those things in you." He gently touched her face.

She embraced him. He sighed deeply when he felt her arms around him, her body next to his. He returned the warm embrace and closed eyes and lay his cheek on her head. With a wince he lifted it and rested the unbruised cheek against the softness of her hair.

**

* * *

==oo==oo==oo==oo==**

* * *

Peter Parker took the last picture out of the developer and put it in the water pan. Then he pinned it up on the line with the others. 'Maybe the web-slinger will drop one of them off one night at Chandler's apartment,' he thought to himself. They were a nice memento, but he couldn't show them to anyone else without having to answer unanswerable questions about Vincent. It was doubtful that they would be believed anyway, especially considering the expertise of Hollywood make-up artists.

He turned on the lights, washed his hands and took off his apron. Stretching as little as possible to avoid dislodging the bandages on his torso, he went into the living room with the pictures in hand. "Yeah, I think I will drop off one of them later." He put them aside to finish sewing his new costume.

**

* * *

- - - END - - -**

**Note:** This story was written by me and first printed (under the name 'Anne Davenport') in 1993, in _Tales from the Litterbox_ 2, a fanzine back in the hard-copy and snail-mail days of fan-fiction, back before the internet really took off.

**Disclaimer:** All Trek characters and universes belong to Marvel and whoever owns 'Beauty and the Beast'; I'm just playing in their sandbox.


End file.
